The Cult
by Dead Corpse
Summary: After Dagon's death, the people who worshipped him were a people without a leader. One man saw opportunity in this. Now, a cult has been formed. And they will do whatever neccesary to acheive their sick goals.
1. Prologue

All his life, Alastair had had an obsession with all things dead. Animals, humans, even Deadra. If they were, dead, he would examine it, or poke it, or even set it on fire. Sometimes he would stab the corpse to make it bleed more.

That was his second obsession. He was mesmerized by blood. It's dark red tint. How it flowed. He loved it.

He wrote all of his dark obsessions down in his journal. He could often be found writing in it, and some of his older friends figured him to be a writer when he grew up. Unfortunately, they were correct. Well, in a manner of speaking.

However, as he grew older, it became more of a guilty pleasure. He found that no one else shared his fascination. So, he hid it away, deep, deep down inside.

And his parents certainly weren't supportive. His mother was addicted to skooma, and his father did nothing but talk about how Orcs were abominations. He had lost his job to an Orc, and had never let it go. Unfortunately, this hatred slowly seeped its way into Alistair's mind as well.

Luckily, he did discover in his young age a knack for magic, in particular Conjuration. By the age of fourteen, he could summon a Skeleton Guardian. He would amaze his friends with his feats of magic.

He also began to develop a powerful leadership ability. He began to learn how to twist words around. He learned how to make others do his bidding, whether through threats, jokes, or more... persuasive means. Soon, he was the self acclaimed leader of his small group of friends.

Once he was eighteen, he joined the Mages Guild. He got pretty far into it, Warlock rank. For a long time, he was a successful member of society. But then, suddenly, he came upon his journal from his child days. It graphically depicted his fascination with the dead.

After reading this, he gained his lust for the dead once again. In complete secrecy, he became a necromancer, and began experimenting with bodies that he found or that he himself killed. Most of them were necromancers who had been killed by other mages, but some were mages who had "failed" their missions.

However, one day, he was found out. Another Guild member saw him perform one of his experiments. He confronted Alistair, even threatened to report his actions. And he would have too, except for the fact that Alistair shot a lighting bolt out his palm that landed on the face of the other mage. It killed him instantly, sending shockwaves through his entire body.

Though Alistair went through a lot of trouble to make sure the mage's body was never found, it turned up. It took no time at all for the trail of breadcrumbs to lead back to Alistair.

Luckily for Alistair, however, by the time word had gotten around of his misdeads, he had made friends and was living with a band of necromancers in a nearby cave. Once again, he used his powerful skills of leadership to tame them to his will.

Then, one night, he got all his newly ill-gotten cohorts, and together they invaded the guildhall. They killed all the mages inside, and then set the place ablaze. Then Alistair disappeared, and was smuggled into the land of Cyrodil.

He was accepted into another necromancer band, and once again lied, decieved, and threatened his way to the top. He met one strong Khajiit, named Kud' Ta, whom he took a special liking too. He appointed him as his personal assistant.

In actuality, Ta was not his assistant. He was his bodyguard. Alistair had seen how powerful he was, both in hand to hand and with destruction magic. He knew that Kud' was much more talented than he. Luckily though, Kud' did not know this.

For a while, things were quiet. Then, news came of the hero of Kvatch, who had defeated Mehrunes Dagon himself. All of his followers were in a sad, pathetic state. But where they saw misfortune, Alistair saw opportunity. Great opportunity.

He knew people and how they worked better than he had ever known magic. People who lose something close to them always want something to replace that. Even, Alistair thought, if it wasn't real. So he formulated a plan. It was something he knew would either give him more power than he had ever had, or bring him to less than dirt.

He knew it was worth it.

So, he began to silently spread word about a god know as Temulus. Temulus was a powerful god, and brother to Mehrunes. He was fake, of course. But Alistair didn't tell the people that.

Word began to spread, and Alistair kept it spreading throughout all of the towns and cities he came across. He set up a meeting for followers to come to, deep down in the sewers. There, he would further spread his lies. Soon, if all went well, he would have a following. And though they thought they were following a god, they were truly following him.

The only people who knew of the scheme were he, Kud' Ta, and a few select necromancers who he elected to help him in his endeavor. Kud was to be Alistair's right hand man, and take control of the cult if something were to happen to Alistair, though he knew nothing would. This was just too great. He would have power beyond anyone's expectations.

Alistair was often found laughing to himself. His cult was about to form.


	2. From Humble Beginnings

It was a warm, humid night. All through the city of Cheydinhal, there was only quiet. Well, above ground, anyway.

Deep underground, in the sewers, people were buzzing. They had heard of the god Temulus, who would support them in the loss of Dagon. Many were unsure, but most were simply happy to have someone to look to in times of trouble.

Upon arriving in the sewers, a man behind a black velvet curtain would ask the arrivals, "Who will we look to in the passing of our Father?"

They would reply, "Our Uncle is a loving guardian." Then the man would step aside and let the new members through. If they got the code wrong... well, the man behind the curtain wasn't wearing a dagger for nothing.

Once inside, they were seated along long benches, set up like a chapel, with a wooden podium for the speaker to stand behind. As soon as everyone was seated, all of the curtains were drawn closed and the torches around the amphitheater were extinguished.

Alistair walked up to the podium. He was wearing a white robe, with a red insignia on the front, in the shape of a cross, the robe of the Pope of Temulus. It was his symbol for Temulus. He stood behind the podium and addressed the crowd.

Standing to either side of him were his Priests, basically, his bodyguards, dressed in red robes with a white insignia. Normally, Kud' would have been standing beside him in the black robe of the Assistant Pope, and all the followers would be in gray robes. But this was the first meeting, and they had not worked all of that out yet. Plus, Kud' was needed for other things.

"Welcome, brothers and sisters! As we all know, our father Mehrunes has been destroyed. There is no changing the past. But we can look to the future. Who is the future? I will tell you, it is Temulus!"

Alistair held up his old journal, painted with the red insignia on the front this time. He had written much more in its pages, detailing facts about the fictitious god. They were not for others to see, simply for reference when addressing crowds.

"This book has uncovered the truth! This is a book from years past. Its true name is lost to time, but I have named it the Book of Temulus. It diagrams the ancient ritual that brought about Mehrunes Dagon himself!"

The crowd was in stunned silence. Under his hood, Alistair gave a broad grin. His lying had not diminished one bit since his younger days.

"According to this holy relic, Mehrunes was created by the gods of old, old times. However, it also speaks of a brother, who would avenge Mehrunes, was He killed. This brother is Temulus. It says that all who worship Mehrunes before death will worship Temulus after, if they wish to reach the paradise that only He can provide."

The crowd seemed to believe him. Fools, all of them. He chuckled under his breath.

"He is a powerful god. He will have nothing to do with the weak, and He will destroy any who do not believe. However, if you do believe, he will give you power beyond your wildest dreams! Let me show you!"

After his little speach, he went through what he and Kud' Ta had practiced beforehand. He called him up apparently at random and made the illusion that Kud' was weak. Then he told Kud' to touch the book. Once he did, he "magically" became extremely powerful. The people seemed to believe him.

"You see? Temulus is sending us a message! By giving you this power, he is sending us all a message to follow him!"

Alistair then made clear, however, that this was not something that could be done on regular basis.

"Know this, though. Temulus does not like for we mortals to touch His holy book. He allows a select few of us to touch it, only so we can spread His word." That would, he hoped, prevent people from going through his Bible.

Alistair went on for another hour, but his performance had sealed the deal, he knew. At the end of the meeting, he handed out robes for all of the newcomers. He publicly elected Kud' as his Assistant, and no one seemed to argue.

He then told everyone to meet at this spot again in two nights, and they would go through the most important part of joining this "religion". Alistair only referred to it as The Babtism, and spoke no more about it.

Afterward, he and his crew headed further into the sewers, to their meeting room. There they discussed what would happen in the following days.

Alistair told them of exactly what was to happen, and who was to do what. While he suspected that at least one of them wasn't exactly happy with what was going to happen in two days, he knew none of them would betray him. If he didn't kill that person, then one of the cultists would.


	3. Cleansing

It was a rainy Turdas night. Once again, it was silence above ground. Below, Cheydinhal's sewers were alive.

Alistair was in the back room, preparing his speech. Kud' Ta was in front of the crowd, making sure they didn't get out of hand. His Priests were standing back, in the shadows of the room.

Alistair went over it all in his mind one last time. He sighed deeply, getting into stern mental preperation. Everything was in order. His men knew where to go. He took his book and his machete, and headed out to preach his "sermon".

He looked at the crowd. They saw his machete, and he saw their eyes grow wide. Things were a bout to get violent.

He looked to his left. There were three wooden boards stood on end, with chains hooked to them. Perfect for making sure no one latched in could escape. Not that they would have much time to, anyway.

Now he looked back to the crowd. They were in hushed silence. He now addressed them.

"Welcome, my friends. I recognize many of your faces. I also see a few new ones. Make sure to get robes at the end of the meeting."

They nodded in approval, then stared back up at him.

"Well, as you know, tonight is the night we like to call the Baptism. Tonight, we will separate the good from the bad. The holy from the unholy. The dirty from the clean. And it will all in the name of Temulus."

He made a nod toward his Priests. They moved forward and through the crowd.

"Some may find this bad. Even, evil, perhaps. But Temulus demands it. These people are filth. They will only bring us down."

The Priests seized the three Orcs that had joined the cult. They resisted, but Alistair hadn't chosen his strong bodyguards for nothing. The Orcs were dragged onto the stage and shackled to the boards. Kud' nodded to Alistair when all were successfully tied up.

"Now, we must please our god by destroying that which plagues us." He drew his machete high above his head. He walked to the first Orc, a female.

"This be in the name of Temulus! May he forever guide us to Paradise. Amen." He then drew his machete to the Orc's throat and drew it across her neck.

Blood spurted out and sprayed Alistair. The Orc choked and tried to breathe, but failed. The blood sank down and tainted her robes.

The crowd gasped. The other Orcs had looks of pure horror on their faces. Kud' and the Priests were sullen.

Alistair went on to the next, said the same line, and slit his throat. More blood soaked into Alistair's robes.

He moved on to the next. He drew the blade to his neck. Suddenly, a member from the concession screamed and lunged at Alistair. Alistair did not react in time, and was too late to dodge the attack.

Luckily, Kud' had anticipated this. He cast a lighting spell at the crazed cultist that literally ripped his body in two. What was left of the man was scattered all over the floor, in disgusting chunks.

Alistair got over the shock quickly and addressed the crowd again.

"I see that not all of us were faithful! He will burn in Oblivion for betraying Temulus! Now, if anyone else wants to try anything unfaithful, please, step forward!"

The members saw the rage in Alistair's eyes. No one moved, no one said anything. Alistair turned and finished off the last Orc. Yet more blood seeped out and stained anything it touched.

The Priests then came forward and took the bodies into the back room. There, they would be burned later on. Alistair went on again to the crowd.

"Our lord Temulus hates the Orcs. They are a plague upon Him and upon us! We cannot let them survive." He took a long breath.

"Now, I know some of you are shocked by what you have seen. Some of you may want nothing to do with this religion now. That is fine. You may leave, if you so wish it. See my assistant Kud' Ta afterward, and we will set it up. For now, you are dismissed. We meet again next Morndas."

The followers departed, except for six, who wished to leave the cult after seeing Alistair's act of hatred. Kud' led them to the back room. He locked them inside, and the Priests ambushed them. Three were stabbed in the heart, two in the head, and one was beheaded with an axe. They were thrown on the pile with the Orcs and burned.

After the fire had burned itself out, they all went to sleep. Alistair fell asleep last. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he would do come Morndas. Things only got better from here.


	4. Public Enemy

Officer Jonas Grenson was the newly elected Captain of the Guard in Cheydinhal. He wore his title proudly. The Imperial blood flowed strong inside him.

His second in command, Durgat Gro Muk, was a strong, burly Orc. He constantly carried around his Ebony battleaxe he had found years ago in an Ayleid ruin.

Currently, the two officers and four other guards were crowded around a house. Inside was a man who was supposedly a known skooma addict and dealer. True, this wasn't the biggest bust either had ever been involved in, but a bust was a bust, and it got them paid.

The men gathered just outside. Jonas counted down from three to one with his fingers, and Durgat kicked the door in. The officers stormed inside, weapons drawn, ready to attack should the suspect try anything.

Luckily, he didn't. He didn't even notice them. He was asleep. Jonas kicked him awake.

He slowly awoke, and looked quite groggy. Not surprisingly, seeing as there were empty bottles of skooma all around his bed.

Jonas handled the arrest. "Sir, you are under arrest for possession and dealing of illegal substances. You're coming with us." He didn't seem to understand, so Jonas told the guards to just take him. Two guards grabbed him roughly by the arms and dragged him to the jail, and put him under lock and key.

There was no "pay the fine" anymore. Not while Jonas was in power. He had seen too many rich people escape because they had money. Well, not any more. Ever since Jonas had become captain, every suspect had been arrested and had served his time.

Really, it was luck that he was in this position at all. First, the corrupt Ulrich Leland had been found out and arrested. Then, Garrus Leland had been killed in action; some psychotic cultist had gone crazy and stabbed him in the face with a kitchen knife. Jonas had killed that psycho himself.

From there on, he had been captain. And, really, much hadn't happened since he'd gotten the job. A few skooma busts, one robbery, and report of murder that turned up fruitless. But, something really strange happened one night a few weeks ago.

The sun went down, and all was well. Then, when the sun came up, there were nine reports of missing persons. That was peculiar. One person may just skip town. Two or three people may just skip town. Nine people, though? And all the suspects apparently had no relation to one another. It was all too strange.

After that, things had gone back down to normal. No excitement, except for, of course, the occasional bust.

As Jonas walked through the city, he relaxed himself. He listened to the distant noises of the birds. He listened to the happy yells of children playing. Then he heard more screams. They belonged to an elderly woman. He snapped out of his trance and ran toward the location of the sound.

He arrived just outside the church, where the screams had originated. What he saw there was… disturbing.

A guard lay dead, in a pool of his own dark blood. A Dunmer was holding a knife in an attacking position. Another man was whimpering in fear from his attacker. The guard recognized the horrified victim as a member of the church.

"Stop, criminal! You're under arrest for murder!" The murderer looked at Jonas with a crazed look in his eyes. Then, suddenly, he was upon the holy man, and was plunging his knife deep into the man's stomach. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Jonas leaped upon the assailant and took him to the ground. He violently ripped the knife from the suspect's hands, and threw it far from their location. He cuffed him, then patted him down for further weapons.

He found no weapons, but he did find a small note in the murderer's pocket. It read:

**Temulus has called upon you, Daynil. It is time for you to prove your faith. **

**You must des-**

Jonas didn't get a chance to read it all. In a blind fit of rage, the Dunmer turned on his side and shot a fireball at the note. It burned to a crisp in his hands. Then Daynil went into a fit of laughter.

Jonas kicked him in the face. It broke his nose and it began to bleed. Daynil began to cry in pain. Jonas quickly told a guard who just arrived to get Daynil to prison, and then went to see the victims. There was no doubt the guard was dead. He had a direct gash in his head, which had instantly stopped his thoughts.

The holy man was still alive, but his time was fleeting. He wasn't going to last more than a few minutes at most. Jonas went to him.

"You're going to be okay sir. We can fix you right up." This was, of course, just talk. Nevertheless, Jonas cast a simple healing spell on him, to perhaps delay death a few more seconds.

Blood began to flood the man's mouth, and he began to choke. He got too much caught in his windpipe, and drowned on it. A terrible way to die.

Jonas sighed. What had happened? Why had whoever this Daynil person was killed this man? If only he had gotten to fully read that note, then, maybe…

No, the lives could not have been saved, but Jonas seriously doubted that this was just a random act of violence. He had been contacted to do this. Was he a bounty hunter, or maybe an assassin? No, he was too foolish for that. He had conducted this murder in broad daylight, in front of the whole city.

Jonas sighed. He would have to have a long think about this. He retreated to the guard's quarters. So much for peace.

---

Okay, now you know the main characters thus far. It may have started off dull, but the action does pick up, I assure you.

Thanks for the reviews, too. Please keep on R&Ring.


	5. Assassin

**12:49 A.M., Loredas, 16 Rain's Hand**

Alistair had just finished his latest sermon. It was a few weeks after the Baptism, and everyone seemed to have gotten over the initial shock. The charred remains of that night were long gone, and Alistair had already set his sights on new ways of reaching out to his public.

As everyone was leaving, he stopped on man heading out. This was the Dark Elf, Daynil. Alistair had been watching this one for a long time, and had thought of many useful things to do with this one. He had just come up with what he thought was the most useful, and was about to put it into action.

Daynil was… disturbed. From what he was heard, when Mehrunes was around, he was normal, well, for cultist standards. But once Dagon was banished from Tamriel, the Dunmer's mental proficiency went with him. He had slowly grown steadily more… insane. This was, of course, just what Alistair needed.

You see, for a long time, Alistair had known that his cult would not survive if the members found religion in other gods. So, it was required that he take out that possible threat. And that started today, with the workers of the Cheydinhal church.

"Daynil, I have a very special task for you." Daynil looked at him in surprise. "What is it, my lord?"

Alistair refrained from grinning. "Temulus has come to me in my sleep. He has told me much. Some, I cannot say, some, I can. However, he did mention you in particular. He wants you to kill someone." Alistair handed Daynil a note, describing in detail who his target was.

Alistair could tell that this had much appeal to Daynil. Alistair went over all the details, and then let Daynil go home. He had seemed quite excited, Alistair noted. Good.

For you see, he hadn't chosen Daynil for nothing. His target spent almost all of his spare time in the undercroft. But, once a day, the man came out of the church to speak with the citizens of Cheydinhal and see how they were doing. He did well with people. And that could not be allowed to continue.

Alistair headed back to the back room and went to sleep. Tomorrow would be, for lack of a better word, interesting.

**4:31 P.M., Loredas, 16 Rain's Hand (Almost 16 hours later)**

A messenger ran through the sanctuary, calling Alistair's name. Alistair came out from the backroom and addressed the messenger.

"What is it?"

"Sir, its Daynil. He killed his target, and a guard who was in his way. He was then captured, and now resides in Cheydinhal prison."

Alistair sighed. Not the ideal turnout, but it was acceptable. Normally, he would be afraid that if a cultist was imprisoned, then he would squeal under pressure or possibly torture.

But he was not scared in this situation. Daynil was mentally instable. Temulus was the only thing he had to cling to. He would never crack, and would welcome pain and death as apposed to reporting his fellows.

"Okay, good work messenger, you're dismissed."

The messenger ran off, leaving Alistair alone. He went back to his bed and took a nap.

**10:30 P.M., Sundas, 17 Rain's Hand**

It was the next day, and Alistair had called for a special meeting. As all the members were settling, he addressed them all.

"As some of you know, our friend Daynil has been imprisoned after serving his lord and savior Temulus. This was because He told me in a dream that that was what Daynil must do."

Alistair looked around the crowd as he said his next piece. "He has chosen a few of you, and has told you, through me, what he demands. You must do what He demands, or face expulsion from the church."

He then called out the names of three members, and as they came up to the stage, he passed them notes similar to Daynil's. These were like the dead drop notes he had heard of from the Dark Brotherhood. Those were successful, so why not these?

As the group left, Alistair thought over the last two days. Would Daynil break out of prison? That was unlikely. Would he die in prison? That was possible. For two murders, one premeditated, he would be in jail for a long time.

But, so long as he accomplished his task, and the others accomplished theirs, who really cared?


	6. Doing Time

Daynil awoke slowly. He felt as if he had just been pelted with rocks. His memory slowly returned to him.

He was in jail. He had killed a guard. But he had killed his target, and that was all that mattered.

He had then been hauled off to the prison, stripped of his possessions, and literally thrown into the prison. He didn't know for sure, but he thought he remembered someone saying that he would be executed. Great.

But, he had pulled a fast one on his captors. Unbeknownst to them, he had secretly stashed a single lock pick in the very fibers of his pants. All he need do was take a knife and slice his pants in a certain spot, and freedom was his for the taking.

But he had to be careful. If he wanted to escape, he would have to have perfect timing. The guards would have to be gone, and it would have to be night time. And even then, it would be a challenge.

He took a good look around his cell. It was awfully dark. He could barely see. There was a guard outside, looking menacingly down at him. There was an Orc standing beside him, who had quite an impressive battle axe on his back.

"So, kill a priest? And kill one of my friends, one of my men? I don't think so. I will see to it personally that you die, you piece of filth."

The Orc spit in his general direction. Then the two left, to be replaced by another guard, who was probably the jailer himself. Daynil recognized the speaker. He had been the one to arrest him. And he had almost gotten his grubby hands on Daynil's note.

The jailer spoke to him as well. "Well, well, well. You've dug yourself quite a hole, and forgotten to bring an escape rope. What a predicament. Well, at least you'll have a long time to think it over. Unless, of course, they execute you. Which, at this point, is a good bet." The jailer chuckled.

Daynil scowled. He would definitely have to kill this guard before it was all over. He retreated to his bed and lay down, resting his head on the pillow. He began to drift off to sleep, dreaming of all the ways to kill this particular jailer.

-

The prisoner scum had just been thrown in jail, and Jonas had not missed the chance to be the first to wake him up.

"So, kill a priest? And kill one of my friends, one of my men? I don't think so. I will see to it personally that you die, you piece of filth." The words rolled off his tongue like poetry.

Durgat Gro Muk spit upon the prisoner. Then, they turned and left, leaving him in the jailer's capable hands. They walked to the nearest inn, the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, and each got some brandy.

Durgat drained his bottle in seconds, but Jonas took his time, drinking at his leisure. They made small talk with the waitress there, Mariana Ancharia, who seemed to be quite taken with Jonas. She had recently grown her short hair out so that it was around her shoulders, and she looked quite attractive in it.

After four brandies, Durgat got a little woozy. He went on back to the barracks to rest, leaving Jonas and Mariana to flirt. By eleven, both were in a happy stupor, and she invited him upstairs. He at first refused, stating that a guard always needed to be on the watch, but she wasn't a woman you could very well say no to.

So, he returned to the barracks the next day, quite hung over, but content nonetheless. At first the guards were confused, but then Durgat filled them in, and Jonas was teased all day about his nightly escapades. It didn't bother him though. He had a feeling that Mariana and he could get into a serious relationship, and he had no problem with it.

He went on all that day with somewhat of a spring in his step, despite all that had happened yesterday. He felt that, as bad as it was, it would only get better from here.

-

Daynil had never been so bored. He had slept all through the night, taking away any possibility of escaping on his first night of encasement. But that wasn't a big deal. He knew virtually nothing of this prison, and it would do him well to learn it first before making his escape.

He just wished he had something to do. All he had to do now was talk to the jailer, which either resulted in the jailer being irresponsive, or simply insulting him.

Later in the day, a fellow guard came down to talk with the jailer. They conversed, and then suddenly the jailer gave a hearty laugh. The other guard left, and the jailer addressed Daynil.

"Well, what do you know? Turns out you are scheduled for execution. One week from now, you're going to be set into the guillotine, and heads will roll." He laughed.

With that, Daynil confirmed two things that would happen without a shadow of a doubt: one, he would break out of here; and two: he **would** kill that damned jailer.


	7. Deep Thinking

Alistair looked at the crowd gathered around him at his podium. They looked to him with hope, as if he was their father. And, while technically he was nothing of the sort, he enjoyed the feeling of being in absolute power, with the ability to force others to his whim with a flick of the wrist.

It was only a few days after the news of Daynil's imprisonment. He was scheduled for execution at 9:00 the next morning. It pained him to hear that he would be killed off, but not out of sympathy. If too many of his followers got killed off, he would lose them all. And that was beyond unacceptable at this point.

Alistair had dug himself so far into the "cave" that was his cult that not only could he not see the exit from which he had come, he could not even detect a hint of light from the outside world. Not that he wanted to go back. Sure, it was more dangerous. But, no guts, no glory. That was one of his favorite sayings, after "kill or be killed".

Alistair addressed his audience as one, just as he had done over fifty times. He said his usual piece. Temulus needed them. He went on with his nonsense. But he had begun to wonder about things lately. Was it really nonsense, that there was a god out there looking out for him? It seemed that, as of late, there had been some sort of guiding force in his life. Peculiar.

He finished off about an hour later, having gone over much of the same stuff in slightly different wording. He had looked through his diary several times throughout the sermon, and had had written much in it in the last few days. This diary, this cult, was becoming his entire life. He did not know it, but he was becoming obsessed with that which he created.

But he constantly had one plan in the back of his head. He knew he would have to enact it soon. It would certainly be the most daring thing he and his cult had attempted, perhaps the most daring thing he would ever do. Well, using the cult anyway. Killing off a whole guild hall was, well, daring, to say the least. Or maybe it was cowardly. Alistair didn't know.

But this, this would lead to just as much blood shed as that guild hall. Possibly more. It depended on the day, of course, but people were bound to die. Hopefully not too many of his own.

His only true fear was what the Cheydinhal leadership and law enforcement would do. The law would attempt to kill them. Arrest was out of the question. He was already a thorn in their side, if they got their hands on him, he wouldn't live to see the rest of his cult be slaughtered.

Suggesting that he and the rest survived the initial strike, the queen or king or whatever (Alistair had never really cared enough to ask about the monarchy of this place) would tighten restrictions on the city. But, luckily, Alistair had ways of escaping. He hadn't been caught yet, after all, and his bounty was second to only a few, including but not limited to the infamous Grey Fox, and his personal hero, Manimarco.

His thoughts returned to Daynil. He did feel a tiny bit sorry for him. Alistair had sent him on a suicide mission with no chance of escape. He made a mental note to hold a funeral service for him, simply to increase the morale of the rest of them.

He returned to his backroom. He had recently put up several maps of different areas in or around Cheydinhal. These maps detailed the city itself, the sewer system, and a few caves and dwelling outside the city.

Throughout the days he had put them up; they had been littered with red and black marks, signifying different trails or areas of interest. The way he saw it, everything was as well planned out as it would ever be.

He knew it was almost time. At their next meeting, they would attempt what none had before. They were going to utterly destroy the Cheydinhal sanctuary, and everyone in it. If there was anything he could do to get his word permanently out there, it was this.


End file.
